


break down these walls and come on in

by chinarai



Series: blindly, i am following [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 07, SHEITH - Freeform, Spoilers, recovering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-06-25 18:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15646206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinarai/pseuds/chinarai
Summary: After the fight, Keith recovers in the hospital, talks to the Paladins and receives a special visit.Keith does that then, finds his gaze in the dimly lit room, faces the emotions swirling in his brown eyes head on. “I’m not going anywhere, Shiro.” He promises, reaching out for his hand again and Shiro takes it firmly. “You should know that even death can’t separate us."“God, please, no,” he breathes and brings their joined hands to his forehead. “Please, I don’t want to test that theory and risk losing you for good.”“Shiro,” he’s trembling, both of them are actually, and Keith wets his lips with his tongue but it doesn’t help. “I’ll never leave you for as long as I live.”





	1. your fingertips trace my skin

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so. Where should I even begin?
> 
> I'm running on three hours of sleep, should've gone to bed long ago, but I wanted to finish this. Too tired to comment on the season aside from, g o d, thank you for the sheith, they both looked so good. Also Hunk, he deserves a special shout out. 
> 
> Title's from Selena Gomez & Marshmello's Wolves.
> 
> Upping their injuries for the sake of a plot. Enjoy!

Keith’s the last Paladin to wake up. He believes that because it’s Krolia that tells him.

His vision swims when his eyes open, blurry and blinded by the light, but he seems her there sitting close to his bed when it clears, Kolivan occupying the seat by the window, one foot propped up on the bench. A little surge of relief in seeing him there wells up in his chest. Knowing that Kolivan has recovered from the hands of that horrid druid, and seeing both him and his mother wearing the same outfit, both of them the leaders of the Blade, makes some of his anxiety ebb away.

Kolivan stands up to join Krolia at his side. He seems a little lighter, the usual tight line of his lips gone, replaced by a smile that is so rare it makes Keith’s head spin. A hand that would’ve been heavy on any other circumstance settles on top of his head, feather light, and disappears as quickly as it came.

He stays awake for long enough for a doctor and a nurse come check his vitals and ask questions, letting his mom and Kolivan do most of the talking, and then Keith falls asleep again, her gentle fingers brushing back the bangs from his forehead.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, dusk paints the sky shades of purple, but he doesn’t know if it’s a new day or not. Krolia doesn’t say, and they’re alone this time, only the faint chatter coming from the television she clearly hadn’t been watching filling the room with noise. Well, aside from the machines attached to his body, beeping steadily to the beat of his heart.

“That thing did a lot of damage to you,” his mother says lightly, her warm hand over his bandaged one where an IV pricks him whenever his fingers twitch. “Being the head of Voltron certainly has its downsides.”

It does and he knows it very well when his side begins to throb. “What about the others?” He manages to croak out, lips twisted in a grimace.

She smiles sadly and strokes his cheek. “Bedridden still, but in better shape than you.” Her fingers linger on his face, tracing the scar, and deep down he’s so happy to see her again, but he can only register the pain that’s spreading through his body from his ribs. Krolia pulls away, reaches out for the bedside table and a nurse enters the room less than a minute later, responding to her call promptly with a syringe in hand.

Keith smiles at his mom, as best as he can, the nurse injecting more painkillers into his veins. He has never been a fan of hospitals, despises even more how medicines make his head sluggish, but this isn’t a pain he can bring himself to handle without help right now, so he takes it and embraces the unconsciousness that comes with it.

* * *

Pidge and Matt are in his room, their quiet chatter filtering through his brain and rousing him from sleep. They look apologetic for the briefest of moments when he wakes up, but soon Matt’s ruffling his hair as much as the bandage around Keith’s head allows and Pidge is trying to delicately pull him into a hug. He can barely lift his own arms to reciprocate the gesture, but he leans into her and hopes it’s enough.

Keith finds that he doesn’t mind the contact.

“Hey.” Matt settles on the edge of the bed. “You gave us another scare again.”

It takes him a while to remember that one and only time he almost rammed his ship into a shield, and when he does Keith only lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “Sorry.”

“We’re glad you’re okay.” Pidge leans back, eyes suspiciously bright under the artificial light. “We’ve been asking the doctors about you, but all they say is that you’re stable, and despite how much time Krolia spends here, we can never run into her.”

“I’m fine.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Everything is hurting, but I’m alive, so that’s good enough.”

Matt pats his knee, possibly the only part of his body that isn’t thrumming unpleasantly right now, and fills him on all that he’s missed, the progress they’ve been making cleaning up the mess left behind in the aftermath of their fight, with the help of so many different races that humans seem out of place on Earth.

Pidge jumps right in to tell Keith about Matt’s new girlfriend, a mysterious figure that has yet to take off her helmet near the Holt family, but Matt swears on his favorite screwdriver kit that she’s absolutely stunning and gorgeous. She teases him incessantly about it, to the point that Matt becomes red and flustered, and Keith finds a little humor in that and chuckles, tries to, chest squeezing painfully and forcing a grunt out of him.

With that single noise, it all stops. The visit is cut short, but he’s enjoyed it anyway, waving goodbye as the Holt siblings leave the room after calling for a nurse.

* * *

Something warm and heavy rests alongside his legs. The wolf - Kosmo, his mind supplies through the haze - lies in his bed, on his side, just as he used to back in the Quantum Abyss, and Keith didn’t know how much he missed him until he stretches his fingers and grazes the soft fur of his tail.

But he’s not alone, he realizes, tilting his head to the side to see Allura lift a hesitant hand to pet Cosmo’s stomach. Further down the bed, Coran scratches behind Kosmo’s ear and Romelle runs her finger along his snout. Kosmo basks in the attention with a quiet sigh, but lifts his head to look at him when Keith touches one hind leg.

“You’re awake.” Allura is smiling gently at him, eyes soft and warm and full of care. “We’ve been worried about your recovery.”

Keith is aware of all the bandages wrapped around his limbs, but doesn’t know the current extent of his injuries. Hasn’t bothered to ask for updates or to peek under the wrappings, content to know the amount of cracked and broken ribs and bruises scattered about his body as supplied by Krolia some time ago, which already feels too far away from the present.

“I’ll heal,” he says, because he will, eventually.

“It would’ve been so much easier if we still had the Altean pods,” Coran muses, twirling a lock of dark fur around his finger like he does with his own mustache.

Easier, yes, but these were so claustrophobic that Keith often chose to deal with his wounds by himself, so he chooses not to comment.

“You’ll be back on your feet soon,” Romelle shoots him a smile, bright and wide, and he smiles in return.

Keith settles comfortably on his pillows to watch Allura try to pet Kosmo, but she can’t bring herself to do it. She goes as far as splaying a hand on his flank, but doesn’t move it, barely breathes. He doesn’t think she’s afraid of him, but maybe a little apprehensive that he’s not as domestic as a regular dog - or in her case, her mice that cling to the orange fabric of her outfit, squeaking lightly as they make their way down her arm to nestle in Kosmo’s fur.

* * *

He catches the first full glimpse of his injuries when a nurse comes to redress them. Purple blotches all over with yellows and greens in a sick painting that leaves his stomach upset, and the last time something like this happened had been so long ago on his one and only Trial of the Blade of Marmora, and even then it wasn’t this bad. There’s a cut on his forehead, angry red outlining the scab, that he isn’t allowed to touch but can see through a hand mirror.

Lance walks into the room just as the nurse secures the bandage around his forehead again and packs up her stuff before taking her leave. He sits on the chair that never gets moved away from his bedside and studies him quietly for a moment. “Gosh, you’re looking so much better.”

“Excuse me?”

“I saw they taking you out of the Black Lion, Keith.” Lance says, tapping his own forehead, and he’s so serious Keith sobers up from his medicines almost immediately. “There was so much blood coming from that gash.”

Keith runs his hands over the bandages, touch light enough not to press on the sensitive skin. “I really took a beating, didn’t I?”

“We all did,” Lance clarifies. Keith almost reels back when he isn’t met with his usual teasing. “But we’ve been wondering why you were affected more.”

“Mom thinks the head is too open and susceptible for attacks,” he shrugs and his shoulders don’t ache as much anymore - but the pain is still there. Besides, the Black Lion is bigger and heavier, so his descent back to Earth had been more turbulent.

Lance hums and rubs a hand over his ribs. “We got out of it with only light injuries in comparison.”

“It’s just a bad cut on my forehead. The scrapes, cracked or broken ribs and bruises are the same for all of us.”

“Guess so,” Lance beams at him and jumps to his feet, bidding him farewell and making a hasty exit, almost yelling over his shoulder his reason for leaving.

Keith tries to understand the jumbled mess of words that don’t form a coherent sentence, but Allura’s name is mentioned at some point, and suddenly it all makes sense.

* * *

His hands have healed enough that the bandages aren’t necessary anymore, and he thumbs through a paperback, trying to focus on anything but his nerves. Truth is Keith is getting too antsy of staying confined to a bed, among other things that poke at him insistently even as he tries to block the thoughts from the forefront of his mind. It’s getting hard to ignore it, but the visits he gets help most of the time.

Hunk is sitting on the plastic chair and they have bandages around their heads to match, which he points out with a wide grin. There’s a fading bruise along his jaw, but other than that, he seems uninjured.

And he’s happy, bright - radiant, even - ever since he reunited with his family.

“Mom said as soon as things settle, we can all have dinner together.” His eyes shine and his smile is brilliant, and Keith can see how much he loves his parents. “You can invite Krolia too, Keith. And Cosmo. We can save some bones for him and he’ll be like any other dog - wolf and bury these around in the yard.”

Keith finds himself smiling, running a digit under his shirt and over the wrappings around his stomach, lying back in bed. “Sounds fun, Hunk.”

“Maybe we can play Monsters and Mana again and you can finally join us. It’s a very fun game but gosh - gosh, I hope Shiro doesn’t pick a paladin again, he sucks.”

His smile diminishes a little, unnoticed, and Keith rearranges himself in bed until something aches, until pain shoots up his spine and he focuses on it and drowns the ugly voice in his head, Hunk’s chatter only a faint, distant sound that he tries to pick up once the pain fades almost completely.

“- Matt’s been wanting to join us, but he’s been kinda busy helping everyone out there and you’re still here, but then again, nothing is stopping us from crowding your room to play, so I guess we can wait until he’s got some free time for that and we’ll come right over.”

Keith forces his lips upwards when Hunk looks down at him and drops his hand from his face where it had been cradling his chin previously, an old habit the Yellow Paladin will never drop. “Sounds like a plan. Just let me know beforehand to go easy on the painkillers.”

Hunk’s smile is a little rueful and he bumps his fist lightly against the hand Keith has resting over his stomach. “Get well soon, man. It... It means a lot to me what you did, you know? Agree to look for my family, I mean. I’m grateful you’re my friend.”

“I’m grateful too,” Keith replies after a pause laden with feelings that lodge in his throat and this time when his lips curl, it’s purely genuine.

When Hunk leaves, it takes Keith some time to feel alone again, once more thumbing through the book to keep the thoughts at bay, but they come unbidden when his focus lapses.

It’s been days and he hasn’t seen Shiro yet.

* * *

Feeling and perception come to him slowly when he wakes up. The first thing he sees is the faint glow of a lamp illuminating the room, chasing shadows to the farthest corners, then he notices the quietness of it all, the stillness of the hallways and the world outside Garrison walls. It must be night and a glance to the bedside table confirms it’s two-something in the morning, the numbers too blurry to make sense.

He lifts his hands to his face to rub his eyes and it’s only later when the left one drops to the bed that he realizes the right hand never moved from its resting place. A weight is settled over it, warm and solid, trapping it between a callused palm and the sheets. Keith blinks up at the ceiling, brows furrowed, allows his head to loll to the side to catch glimpse of his companion. His breath catches in his chest, feelings crawling up his throat, leaving a knot in its wake, reaching his eyes and making them water.

Shiro.

He’s here, a pillow shoved between his cheek and his oversized arm, occupying that uncomfortable looking plastic chair that never leaves his bedside, lips parted in his sleep, shadows under his eyes.

Keith breathes in deeply to rein in his emotions, all the relief and the fear and anxiety and everything else making his heart throb and threaten to explode. He’s here, he hasn’t left, hasn’t abandoned him, and after so many promises it seems silly Keith would doubt it, but it’s a fear that comes around sometimes when he feels vulnerable.

Shiro has been his greatest strength and biggest weakness for as long as he can remember.

He reaches over to card his fingers through his silver hair, indulges himself in the softness of it. It’s been so long since he last saw Shiro and spoke to him, and seeing him now so at peace under this faint lightning makes his insides stir in the most pleasant of ways.

Shiro sighs, presses his lips together and squeezes his eyes before they open a sliver. He lifts his head off his pillow, straightens his spine slowly, bones cracking, rolls his neck and finally lets his gaze fall on him. Keith lowers his hand to his stomach and smiles, watching Shiro’s brain scramble to catch up with reality, thoughts flickering in his eyes until they widen in recognition and he breathes in sharply and God, he’s so beautiful, bags under his eyes and all. Keith could look at him forever.

“Keith.” A whisper laced with emotion, loud in the quietness of the room. Shiro grips his hand tighter. “You’re awake.”

He nods, slow, turns his hand around so they’re palm to palm, runs his thumb along the back of his hand. “Hey.”

“I’m so sorry we couldn’t speak sooner.” And just like that he launches into a breathless apology. “We’ve been working hard to fix things and I’m required to be in two different places at once. I spend all day running around, but I spend the nights here-”

“Shiro,” Keith cuts in gently, smile reaching his eyes. “It’s okay.”

He doesn’t need to know what’s been going through Keith’s head, already has too much weight on his shoulders as it is. Shiro visibly relaxes on the chair, reaches over with that big prosthetic of his to rub at the nape of his neck, tries to hide a wince but fails.

“How are you feeling?” He asks before Keith can do the same.

“Honestly? Like I’ve been run over by a truck twice.”

Shiro looks down at their hands. “You were jostled around pretty badly.”

“I kinda miss the Altean pods, you know.”

He laughs then, a little quiet sound that vibrates his chest and makes his shoulders quiver. “It was impossible to get you in one of them.”

Keith’s tone is light and playful, but he means it seriously. “I’d rather be in that than here for another day.”

Shiro still has his attention on their hands, joined among pristine white sheets, and pulls away after a few seconds like he’s just realized what they’ve been doing, like that gesture alone crossed the lines of platonic and went deeper into a territory they have yet to acknowledge. Keith immediately misses the warmth, but knows the slight flush on Shiro’s face isn’t a product of his imagination and this knowledge makes it so much harder. He clears his throat and picks at his pillow with his human hand, the robotic one set oddly on his lap.

Keith aches for more - more of his hand on his, more shoulder touches, more conversations and time spent together. More, more, more. He wants to reach out and caress his hair again, wants to run his fingertips along the scar on his nose and down the curve of his jaw.

He recoils his hand instead so both are resting atop his stomach. Shiro stops poking at the pillowcase, eyes darting to follow the movement, eyebrows slightly pinched.

Silence falls, a little heavy, a little awkward, and it’s been so long since this happened between them for the last time - if ever. Keith closes his eyes, not planning on going back to sleep, but it’s easier to ignore the tension he doesn’t know how to fix when it’s dark and he can’t see from his peripheral vision as Shiro frowns at the mattress.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Shiro says a minute before the silence becomes too suffocating. “When I saw you on that stretcher, half of your face covered in red, hair drenched in your blood... That fear became very real.”

Keith keeps his eyes closed. Shiro doesn’t really need that to keep talking, but Keith doesn’t want to see the pain etched on his face so clearly, pain he caused in one way or another.

“They patched you up and you were so pale, so... Fragile. That’s definitely something you aren’t,” he huffs lightly, runs a palm to smooth the sheets, gives himself something to ground him to this moment. “They said you were stable and healing, but you wouldn’t wake up and I couldn’t sleep, so I began spending my nights here hoping I’d get to see you open your eyes.”

Keith does that then, finds his gaze in the dimly lit room, faces the emotions swirling in his brown eyes head on. “I’m not going anywhere, Shiro.” He promises, reaching out for his hand again and Shiro takes it firmly. “You should know that even death can’t separate us.”

“God, please, no,” he breathes and brings their joined hands to his forehead. “Please, I don’t want to test that theory and risk losing you for good.”

“Shiro,” he’s trembling, both of them are actually, and Keith wets his lips with his tongue but it doesn’t help. “I’ll never leave you for as long as I live.”

It’s as close as he’ll get to confessing, he knows, but it seems to be enough. Shiro inhales sharply, squeezes his hand tighter, and that’s all the confirmation Keith needs, wordless as it is, that they both have the same fear of losing each other, that they will stay together and cling to one another for as long as life lets them.

No more hesitating, no more holding back, no more lying to themselves saying that they can’t have this, that they can’t have one another. No more pretending they haven’t been wanting this for so long.

Shiro stands up, joints popping almost obnoxiously, but none of them really notice, too focused on his thumb running along the scar on Keith’s cheek and his fingers combing his bangs away from his face. His lips press to his forehead, warm and chapped and firm, a sure touch that lingers and makes Keith’s heart rate pick up, but at least now the machines aren’t needed anymore to give him away. Shiro’s breathing is uneven, hand cradling the side of his face with care.

Keith has his fingers curled around the soft cotton of Shiro’s shirt when he pulls back, somehow pries his eyes open to look at him, at his furrowed brow and damp lashes, eyes so full of love Keith’s heart stutters in his chest.

“Sleep with me,” he whispers, already scooting over to give Shiro some room. “You’re going to ruin your back if you keep that up.”

Shiro doesn’t protest, doesn’t even hesitate to occupy the vacant space like it’s where he’s always been supposed to be. Keith moves closer, tucks himself into his side, sighs as Shiro’s arm curls around his shoulder and lets himself melt into his warmth.

They don’t fall asleep, not immediately, but they don’t talk either, content on listening to each other’s breathing and heartbeat. Shiro buries his nose in his hair, recently washed and forever unruly, presses his lips to his scalp once, twice, nuzzles his temple. Keith lets him and strokes his face in return, runs his fingers through his hair, whispers reassurances that they belong together.

They don’t kiss. Someday they’ll get there, but for now this is enough.


	2. in your eyes, there's a heavy blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words to thank you all for the positive feedback I got! I'll reply to each of you individually along this week, but seriously, I'm moved. It warms my heart to know you've enjoyed this piece, so here I deliver you all Shiro's pov that I had more time to work on.
> 
> I've gone back to the first chapter and fixed a few things (and the title, because it was 3am and I was almost falling asleep fkhsdlfkhs). Also, the wolf - it's Kosmo apparently. I saw both versions on the subtitles, but everyone's sticking the version with K so I fixed that too. Keith, Krolia, Kosmo. Huh. 
> 
> There's another thing I want to add to this, but I don't know when I'll get around to it. Enjoy!

Adrenaline kept his heart beating fast throughout the battle, from the moment the Paladins left the base to call upon their Lions to the moment he stared at Sendak’s face from where he lied helplessly on the floor, defeated. Keith had been there and saved his life again, saved him from his recurring nightmare, got him sitting upright again.

Thanking Keith had been the only break he was given to catch his breath before they were fighting for their lives again, this time against a foreign, overpowered creation that easily drove Voltron into the ground. It all had been a blur of fear and desperation to save the Paladins and Earth, and his will to fight had transformed their new ship into a machine worthy of its name, slow but massive and powerful, helping Voltron defeat their new enemy. 

Inside their powered down robot, Shiro hears his crew picking themselves up after the last strike, but keeps his eyes on the form of the Lions, lifting that machine off the ground and flying skyward to space. One doesn’t need to be a genius to know what is going on, and he swears he can feel his heart in his throat, blocking passage and making his lungs scream for air. 

It’s all quiet for a few minutes. He sends a prayer to whoever is listening, begging to keep them safe, keep them alive,  _ please _ . But it is rejected, his reply coming in the form of five colorful streaks falling from the sky.

His heart screeches to a halt. 

* * *

As a leader, Shiro knows he can’t really favor one over the rest of the team, that he can’t pick sides and has to treat everyone equally - yet, he goes to the Black Lion first, the pull too strong to ignore. He worries for all of them, wonders how they are all doing, they are all important to him, but Keith... Keith has been around for so long he can’t imagine his life without him, so he has to make sure Keith’s fine himself. 

He’s shaking so much it’s a wonder his legs haven’t given out and left him sprawled on the wide expanse of the desert, but the Lion isn’t too far. There are teams around the Black Lion preparing to head inside her open mouth, and other groups were dispatched to aid the other Lions. Garrison personnel communicate in hurried orders, poking around Black’s massive jaw, and the medical team doesn’t let him join them, holding him back until he’s forced down on a foldable stool to make sure he’s all right and unhurt.

Exasperation wells up as he struggles against them to no avail, grits his teeth and tries to push them away, watching the rescue team’s every move like a hawk, so intent, afraid that he can miss anything crucial in the blink of an eye. Seconds bleed into minutes and he breaks away from their restraining hands as some of the paramedics make their way to the Lion, quieter in comparison to the others, careful as they retrieve Keith from within the cockpit and set him on a stretcher. 

Hands on his chest stop him from getting closer, but even from a distance Shiro can see how injured he is, dark hair clinging to his face, blood steadily oozing from a cut that can’t be seen amidst so much red, bruises and cuts where the Paladin outfit is torn. The sight sends his heart into overdrive and he keeps pushing, keeps wanting to come closer and touch him and check for a pulse himself, but two paramedics hold him back as the others accomodate an unconscious Keith on the back of a Garrison ambulance.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t go with him.” One of them says, and Shiro has to watch helplessly as it drives away.

* * *

He doesn’t look like he was ever Garrison’s golden boy the way he is now, unkempt, stains on his uniform and hair oily as he paces up and down the length of the waiting room in the infirmary wing. The others are here, too, Coran, Romelle, the Holts, Hunk’s parents, Veronica and the rest of her extensive family, Iverson - even Kosmo, with head placed on Romelle’s thigh and looking up at her with the saddest gaze he’s ever seen as she pets him consolingly. They’re all worried, running on very few hours of sleep, tapping feet and biting nails in clear signs of anxiety.

The clock on the wall ticks away and time never seems to pass, crawling at a snail’s pace, making him go mad slowly. Shiro refuses to sit, so Sam joins him and holds him in place with a hand on his shoulder. This simple contact, this silent support, has his throat closing up and eyes prickling, so Shiro holds his pieces together and averts his gaze.

Hunk’s parents are the first to go in when they have him stabilized and presentable enough. Shiro is happy for them, happy for Hunk that wanted to reunite with them more than anything else. His mother is sniffing gently as they follow the nurse out of the waiting room. Coran and Romelle go next, the orange material of her uniform moving unnaturally with every step, a giveaway that she’s sneaking the mice into the room. Shiro, of course, doesn’t say anything - Kosmo is here after all. 

The Holts and Lance’s family are called almost simultaneously. His little brothers are teary eyed, holding onto Veronica’s hand tightly, so very quiet. Colleen takes Shiro’s hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, murmurs a few words of encouragement before they take their leave, too, hand in hand. They’re an inspiration, still together and strong after so many years. 

Iverson gets him to sit down and Kosmo immediately comes to his side with a whine, perches his head on Shiro’s knee and closes his eyes when the spot behind his ear is scratched. He lowers his face to his new prosthetic and closes his eyes to wait. 

“Shiro.” Iverson is touching his shoulder, shaking him lightly, and Shiro lifts his head to blink bleary at the man. Had he fallen asleep? “We can go see him now.” 

He’s on his feet before Iverson is done talking. Kosmo walks by his side and between him and the wolf, Shiro doesn’t know who’s more anxious to see Keith. The nurse stops outside the room, smiles at them sadly and excuses herself. He doesn’t dwell on the sorry quality of her smile and turns to Iverson, but the man simply shakes his head and tells him to go inside by himself without outright saying it. Kosmo sniffs at the crack between the door and the floor and Shiro steels himself before pushing the door open. 

His composure falls apart when he lifts his gaze from the floor. Keith is so pale he can see his veins on the uncovered spot of his inner elbow, and the harsh lightning of the room does little to make him seem like he's not fighting a war against death. His hair is matted with dried blood still, a bruise on his left cheek, arms and legs are carefully wrapped, hiding cuts and other injuries from view, hands bandaged up to the knuckle. Shiro takes it all in and it’s too much, even the chapped lips seem too painful. 

Kosmo bumps his snout on Keith’s hand, whines when he doesn’t answer to the touch. 

Shiro collapses on a plastic chair beside the bed and tries to find comfort on the steady beeping of the machine. 

* * *

Days later and the Paladins are still unconscious. The doctors are optimistic that they will make a full recovery, and Shiro wants to believe them wholeheartedly, but it’s so hard when he has to see all of them lying in bed so broken. 

He visits the others daily, but stays by Keith’s bedside the most, not wanting to impose on the others’ families, but staying away from Keith at this moment in life seems almost impossible. Kosmo remains in the room all day long and refuses to budge, so Shiro has started bringing him bowls of food and water so he doesn’t have to leave Keith’s side.

Shiro’s brought more than that, actually. At night, he tosses and turns in bed in his room, too worried, too afraid of what can happen if he’s not here, so he’s moved into the hospital room almost completely. His own toothbrush is in the cabinet of the adjacent room, a few change of clothes occupy the dresser; his pajamas, blankets and pillow stay on the bench by the window when he’s not using them. 

Keith remains unresponsive. Kosmo tries in his own way, sniffing and licking, but goes ignored. Shiro talks to Keith to keep himself sane, in hopes he will reply at some point, but he’s met with silence. There isn’t much he can do but wait, and he hasn’t been feeling very patient lately to do that. 

A knock on the door rises his from his musing and he pulls his hand away from Keith’s as it opens and Sam comes into the room. “How is he?” 

“The same as ever,” he tries not to sound too disheartened and knows he’s failed when Sam frowns his lips. 

“They will come around, Shiro.” He says in that sure tone of voice only he can pull off. “All of them.” 

Shiro hopes so, scrubs his face with a hand to keep the tears at bay, ignores the stubble growing along his jawline. “Did you manage to contact her?” 

“Yes, I did. She spoke with me a few days ago.” Sam stops at the foot of the bed, reaches out to pet Kosmo. Everyone’s been doing that lately to give him some comfort. “She’s on her way, said she’ll come as fast as she can.” 

He nods, rubbing a hand over his mouth. What is he even going to say to Krolia when she arrives? How can he even face her when Keith is lying in bed like this and Shiro was powerless to keep him from harm? Keith is always protecting and saving him, and sometimes Shiro feels  like he doesn’t do enough for him. 

“Why don’t you sleep?” Sam nods to the seat by the window, large enough that one can lie down on it, but too far away from the bed that Shiro doesn’t consider it a viable option. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” 

Shiro only complies because it means he can escape this guilt for a while. 

* * *

The briefing had dragged on and on, and now he hurries down the hallway of the infirmary wing, eager to return to Keith’s bedside after hours apart, after learning that he’ll have to give it up to help with the planet’s own recovery after the Galra invasion. Shiro’s already thinking of someone he can trust to stay with Keith while he’s away, someone who will keep him updated throughout the day, running over a mental list of capable people. He’ll pay a nurse if he has to, nevermind that he hasn’t had a source of income for the past years. 

Into the room he goes, stopping in his tracks when he sees two figures by the bedside. Krolia and Kolivan are here much earlier than he’d expected and Shiro realizes belatedly that he still has no words to say to her, doesn’t even wonder how they got here so fast. Kolivan acknowledges him first with a nod, face grim and serious yet more relaxed than Shiro remembers it ever being. Krolia caresses Keith’s hair so slow and gentle it hurts to see - Shiro’s done the same thing, afraid he’d break under the touch - and finally looks at him, all her hurt visible in her eyes. God, Keith looks so much like her. 

Shiro squares his shoulder, presses his lips together - and crumbles in the next second. “I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks with a sob. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything. He - he saved me so many times and I couldn’t do the same - I - I’m very sorry, Krolia.” 

He finds himself in her arms. Krolia isn’t as tall as other Galrans they have met, but she’s fierce and strong, and wraps her arms around him in a firm hug that has him bending to shove his face into her shoulder and hide the evidences of his crying. “You know how selfless he can be. Don’t blame yourself for it, Shiro.”

She holds him until his shoulders aren’t shaking anymore, until he picks his pieces up and tries to mend them back together. Kolivan has his gaze set on Keith, which Shiro suspects has been there since Shiro opened his mouth, and he’s grateful that he didn’t bear witness of his tears. She pats his shoulders gently and smiles, forgiving and loving. Keith doesn’t deserve any less than this. 

“Thank you for keeping him company,” Krolia eyes the bundle of fabric on the corner of the bench. “You can return to your room, but only if you’d like.”

He seizes her offer instantly. “I’d rather stay.”

She smiles knowingly. “Then the night shift is yours.” 

* * *

Lance is the first to wake up and Shiro visits him in the evening when he's free of his duties. He doesn't have any deep gashes like Hunk and Keith, but he's got more cracked ribs and a sprained wrist to make up for that. Something that's completely untouched is his face and he makes a show of being overly relieved about it, because his face is so handsome, his features so unique, and Shiro laughs along because one of the Paladins is finally free from the clutches of a coma. 

“How's Allura?” He's leaning forward on his bed, fingers curled loosely around the sheets, so openly concerned for her well being Shiro has to wonder he looks the same when he asks the doctors about Keith.

“She's fine, making a speedy recovery.” Shiro sits down on the edge of the bed, flips through the charts like he can understand what's written in them. “Hunk and Pidge are, too. The doctors think one of them will wake up by the end of the week.”

Lance nods and sags against his pillows with a sigh. “I'm so glad - wait a second.” He shoots up, yelps when his ribs protest and has to take some time to breathe until the pain fades. “What about Keith?”

Shiro's insides go cold.

“I was in that ambulance, Shiro. There was so much blood.” He chokes. “How's he? Is he - is he okay?”

“He's injured more than most, but he's alive.” Keith's alive, and these words are what keep Shiro moving through the day. 

Lance smiles like he knows and understands how worried Shiro is, how it's eating him alive - and maybe he truly does. Shiro had been there, technically anyways, to see from up close how worried he'd been for Allura on numerous times, and heard that he shoved her out of the way, placed himself in the direct path of the radiation belt to save her life. 

“Keith is a fighter, Shiro.” He says and it's hard to believe these two were at odds in the beginning of their journey. “He won't give up.”

* * *

Around forty hours later, he’s notified that Hunk is awake, too. When he arrives that night, Hunk is almost completely hidden behind his parents’ bodies as they hug him tightly, only his arms covered in bruises visible where they’’re wrapped around their torsos. They were saying goodbyes and greet him before leaving, his mother wiping her face with her fingertips and her husband pulling her closer into his side to kiss the crown of her head. Shiro gives Hunk a moment to collect himself and clean his face, and claims his usual place on the edge of the mattress. 

“How long have I been sleeping again?” 

Shiro smiles at him. “About fifteen days.” 

“Ugh. Would you believe me if I said I could sleep for another two weeks?” 

“I would, but we like you better awake.” He pats his shoulder, mindful of his injuries. “Lance’s awake too and he might get some clearance to leave his bed soon, so he can come visit you. You can keep each other company.” 

“I’d like that.” Hunk traces the bruise on his arms and looks up with a frown on his face. “What about the others?” 

Shiro fixes a smile on his lips even as his stomach plummets to the ground. “On their way to recovery.” 

“Great, that’s great. That might have been our toughest fight up to date.” Hunk wrings his hands on his lap. “And I thought Sincline was bad.” 

Shiro nods in silent agreement, thinking of everything the Garrison’s been doing to track down every piece of that mysterious machine and try to figure out where it came from exactly and just what it can do. There are pieces scattered everywhere, some that landed on Earth and others that are floating in space. Some alien races that have come to their aid are helping with that, Ryner and Sam leading the search. 

Hunk nibbles on his bottom lip for a moment. “Hey, Shiro, when Keith wakes up, can you tell him I wanna talk to him?” He grins, so bright he looks five years younger. “I really want him to meet my parents.” 

There it is again, that pain and helplessness taking place inside his chest, squeezing until he can swear his heart is going to shatter. “Sure, Hunk. I’ll tell him.” 

* * *

On the following day, Shiro leaves his vigilant spot by Keith's bedside at the break of dawn to check on Pidge, who has just woken up, and leave for work afterwards.

She's watching with disinterest from where she lies as a nurse fusses over her vitals. Pidge's small, too small, and she could've easily been the one that got hurt the most, but thankfully it's not the case. Her injuries are light and non life threatening, the more serious one being a scrape on her shoulder that she hit hard enough to draw blood. Zethrid hadn't been wrong to think they were all fiercely protective of Pidge - her young age and size definitely spark that instinct in them. 

Her face lights up with a smile, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Finally a familiar face. Hey.”

Shiro ruffles her hair gently. “Hey, Pidge. Your family’s been notified already, they’re on their way. Matt’s here too. How are you feeling?” 

“Oh, you know when kids shake a plastic bag and there’s a fish in it?” She makes a vague gesture with a hand. “I’m the fish. But you, Shiro, you look like that, too.” She winces as the nurse pricks her skin with a needle to draw blood. “Are you okay?” 

He has been ignoring mirrors lately, not in the mood to see if he looks as tired as he feels. “Yeah, I... I’ve been staying with Keith during the night.” 

Unseeingly, she holds a cotton ball to her inner wrist, her eyes now clearer and sharp, watching him. “How is he? And everyone else?” 

“He’s in pretty bad shape, but stable. Lance and Hunk are already awake and the doctors believe Allura will wake up soon.”

“And Keith?” 

Shiro shrugs his shoulders and it feels like he’s admitting defeat. “There’s no prediction.” 

* * *

With three Paladins now awake, Shiro feels more hopeful than he had since witnessing their fall, but only minutely. Krolia and Coran never lose hope, yet their fears are almost palpable, and the others are getting increasingly worried as well. At this point, he can’t recall the last time he had ever been at peace, able to get a good night of sleep, able to look at and think of Keith without having his heart seized by immeasurable pain.  

Three days later, Coran is rewarded for his patience with the sight of Allura’s blue eyes open wide and bright with unshed tears. She's the one to get more emotional upon awakening, clinging to her old friend and father figure tighty, dragging Romelle and then Shiro into the embrace. Her mice squeak as they cuddle close to her on her lap.

“I’m alive?” There's so much shock coloring her voice, hands trembling as she wipes her eyes.

That is something Shiro had never considered: what had gone through their minds as they soared up high with a ticking time bomb, and he’s not sure if he wants to know. They could have died, evaporated as his original body had, or left torn and lifeless inside their Lions to be found by the Garrison teams. Of course he would rather have Keith with his eyes open right now, but having him sleeping and breathing is much better than not having him at all. 

Her grip on his arm is strong and uncomfortable, but he meets her eyes head on without flinching. “Shiro? What about the others? How are they?”

“They’re alive and well, Princess. Don’t worry.” He squeezes her hand in reassurance, but she’s not even close to winding down. 

“What about injuries?” Urgency shows in her voice and eyes. “Is everyone awake?” 

Shiro falls silent. From his peripheral vision, he can see Coran and Romelle on the other side of the bed, the former turning his face towards the window and the latter lowering her head. Allura sucks in a breath and her worry melts into sadness, piercing him like an arrow to his heart. 

“I’m sorry, Shiro.” Her whispered words reflect his own hurt. “I’m so sorry.” 

* * *

Shiro speaks with Krolia and Kolivan on a daily basis, their concern for Keith’s well being binding them closer emotionally. The three of them look absolutely wrecked and there’s a pain on his neck and shoulders that might just lodge itself there forever, yet he doesn’t leave, doesn’t even dare to consider that option, sitting faithfully by Keith’s bedside.

He touches him a lot, usually only with his human hand so he can feel his warmth. It brings him some comfort to know this is real and not just his mind playing tricks on him. The bandages around Keith’s hands are rough and his hair needs some serious scrubbing and trimming, but Shiro treads his fingers through it like its made of the finest silk. His cheeks are pale but warm, and when it all gets too much to bear, Shiro lays his head gently on his chest to listen to his heartbeat, because it can’t compare to the mechanical beep of the machines. 

Today he has pulled an all-nighter, nursing a glass of water and trying to work on some papers, but all he can do is look at Keith and hope. It takes another near death experience for him to realize his feelings once again, and now he regrets never acting on them when they were both conscious. Shiro tries not to think of what ifs, but sleep deprived as he is and filled to the brim with longing and wanting, it gets progressively harder to evade the daydreams.

When Keith wakes up, Shiro will tell him everything, he promises himself that.

Kosmo lifts his head from where he’s sleeping alongside Keith, tilts his head further into Shiro’s palm when he reaches over to stroke his muzzle, a small noise coming from him. 

“Me too, Kosmo,” is all he says, smiling sadly at the wolf. “I miss him too.” 

He heads into the bathroom to prepare for his day, showers and brushes his teeth, slips into a fresh uniform that is infinitely cleaner than his last one, rumpled and dirty and sweat stained. Shiro taps the shadows under his eyes and decides he doesn’t care about his appearance on television. These are a testament of how much he cares for the man lying on that bed. 

Keith looks exactly the same when he emerges from the bathroom. The doctors say he’s looking better, that the tests they run encounter no issues and that his bones are mending well, but Shiro can only see that he’s getting slimmer as the days pass. He sits on the edge of the bed, traces healing cuts on Keith’s fingers with his thumb, studies his face carefully because his lashes might flutter, who knows? Shiro only grows more disappointed when they remain perfectly still. Keith’s eyes don’t even move behind his closed eyelids. 

“Please, Keith.” Shiro asks, begs once more, and he’ll do it again and again without shame until this rouses Keith from his sleep. “I need you here with me.” 

The fingers under his hand remain immobile and Shiro moves up to cup Keith’s cheek instead, touching their foreheads together. “Come back to me. Don’t go where I can’t follow.” 

Keith had saved him from disappearing completely with just his words once, and Shiro wishes his own could be as powerful and effective, but there’s not a single hitch in Keith’s breathing and Shiro has to bite back the urge to cry again. He’s done it too many times these past days to count, letting the tears mingle with the water from his shower or wiping them away in the dead of the night before Kosmo can notice. 

He wonders if he’s doing something wrong, if his pleas aren’t working because he doesn’t love Keith enough. Impossible, he thinks, because he can’t remember how not loving Keith feels like.  

The door opens some time later when the sun is way higher in the sky and three pairs of feet enter the room. Two of them are Krolia and Kolivan, he knows without looking, but he doesn’t acknowledge them and keeps his head bowed and close to Keith’s. 

“Shiro.” 

If Iverson is here, then it means it’s time for him to go. He’d been granted some hours to himself this morning to rest before the speech. He rehearsed it five times throughout the night, stopping his pacing to look at Keith’s still form and ask him what he thought, imagining possible answers and adjusting the speech accordingly. 

Kosmo’s tail thumps on the mattress when Krolia walks up to give his ear a scratch. Shiro doesn’t move, just breathes in the same air as Keith, feels the steady pulse against the thumb resting at the base of his throat. He hopes it never wavers, hopes Keith will never go cold. 

“Shiro,” Iverson tries again, but it seems he can’t bring himself to sound stern when Shiro’s hurting this much. “It’s time.” 

He lingers there for some seconds more and slowly peels himself away. Kolivan gives him an encouraging nod and Krolia tugs at the collar of his uniform, brushes imaginary lint from his shoulders and says a few words of support. 

Keith is still unconscious when he looks back one last time. 

* * *

The news only reach him once he’s done with having meaningless small talk with important people after his speech. At least two nurses have reprimanded him, but Shiro runs down the hallways of the infirmary wing regardless, skidding on the floor twice before he reaches the open door of Keith’s room. 

He’s asleep again but the confirmation from Krolia that he had been awake earlier makes a wave of relief wash over him, so strong his knees finally give out under his weight and Kolivan catches him just in the wink of time. They have him sit down on the chair that belongs to him at this point and he weakly palms away at the tears slipping down his cheeks, not minding them in the least because  _ Keith is okay _ . Keith opened his eyes and stayed with them however briefly before the medicines claimed him again.

Even Kosmo seems happier.

From here onwards, it’s a challenge for Shiro to find him awake. In the first days, Keith can barely keep his eyes open and Krolia relays to him what he’s said in his few minutes of consciousness. At night, Shiro can’t bring himself to wake him up to talk. Keith needs rest, needs to recover, and he doesn’t want to be the reason why his progress is delayed even if all he wants to do is hear his voice again. 

So he waits. He’s preached enough about patience to know that’s exactly what he needs right now, so he hears from the other Paladins that managed to catch him awake, talks to Krolia, Kolivan and the doctors, never falls into deep sleep in case Keith wakes up when it’s dark outside. 

That last tactic proves to be useful when fingers play with his hair at some ungodly hour in the night.

Seeing him awake after so long can’t be compared to anything Shiro’s ever felt before. He becomes aware of his hand holding Keith’s at some point and pulls away. Shiro promised himself he’d confess, but now doesn’t know if he should, it doesn’t feel like the right time, and immediately he feels the air between them shift. The distance he tries to create feels like a chasm and he doesn’t want it. He shouldn’t do this, not after all he’s wanted lately was for Keith to open his eyes and talk to him, not when all he wants to do is scoop Keith up in his arms and protect him like he couldn’t before. 

But Shiro realizes they might never have a right time for this. They’re fighting a war, no one knows what will happen tomorrow or the day after, and if he postpones this for too long, he might lose his chance. 

“Please, I don’t want to test that theory and risk losing you for good.” 

“Shiro, I’ll never leave you for as long as I live.” 

It’s an echo of a promise from their past that tumbled from Shiro’s lips, to never give up.

On his bed, Keith is a line of warmth along Shiro’s side and he fits nicely tucked there. This proximity gives him more comfort than any other touch, than holding a limp hand or stroking a pale cheek. Keith’s words creates roots in his mind, and Shiro’s horrified to realize he’d began to forget the exact timbre of his voice. 

“Whatever happens, we’ll stay together,” Keith says in a whisper. “I won’t lose you again and you won’t lose me either.” 

When Shiro wakes up and sees the deep blue of Keith’s irises, he understands the meaning of getting lost in one’s eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I say that royai quotes fit these two super well?


	3. alone with the stars in the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I promised this third and last part of this forever ago, but now that S8 is out and I have some serious........ opinions about it, I figured I should update this baby here because both works will be tied. yay

Shiro has always known Keith’s eyes are beautiful, but from this close they’re much better. His new prosthetic is bigger compared to his old one and with it now perched on Keith’s hip, the Paladin looks much smaller than he actually is. It’s incapable of registering heat, though, but Shiro doesn’t mind because his other hand is sandwiched between Keith’s cheek and his pillow as they gaze at one another like they’re two fools in love.

Well, they aren’t fools, but the second part of that statement hits the bullseye.

It’s well into the morning already and he likely slept through the meeting he had scheduled, but at least he feels more well rested since they touched down on Earth. And besides, Shiro can’t bring himself to care about it in this moment, not when Keith is tracing his jawline with reverent fingertips.

Yeah, he knows how that feels, the need to make sure this isn’t his imagination, a dream that’ll fade when he wakes up.

Shiro leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead again. The closeness between them isn’t much different from the one before this, but it has a new layer of intimacy that had been lying dormant, waiting to be discovered. Kissing Keith or playing with his hair doesn’t feel unfamiliar. It just feels right, like he’s been doing this for so long it’s burned into his memory.

He murmurs a good morning against his temple and reluctantly slips away from the bed, the bubble around them dissipating and allowing his ears to fill with noises that aren’t only Keith-related. There’s the low buzz of the television and tapping of fingers as Krolia and Kolivan go over a few documents on a tablet. He greets them, not feeling embarrassed in the slightest, and they act as if the both of them cuddling in bed is nothing out of the norm.

Keith’s eyes follow him as he paces around the room gathering his stuff and preparing for the day ahead. He smiles brightly when Shiro leans down to kiss his cheek, lips brushing the scar there as he whispers a goodbye. He’s still looking when Shiro glances back at the door and only once he’s out of sight does he hear Krolia and Kolivan addressing Keith.

He’s already late for his duties, so Shiro doesn’t think the higher ups will be too mad if he takes some more time to arrive. And he’s fairly certain Iverson has spoken with them and expressed the need to let him have some time with Keith after these nerve-wracking endless days of waiting and hurting and hoping and being afraid. Shiro makes a mental note to thank him for it.

He makes his way to a room he’s only visited once before. After their victory, more people have visited this place and brought flowers or lit candles in honor of those that passed away. Shiro hadn’t been in the right mind to come here before, but now that he feels a lot more composed than he had been, he figures it’s about time.

The Memorial Room is blessedly empty and dimly lit. His steps echo around him as he approaches the wall, eyes roaming over the many metal plaques for each person that died trying to defeat the Galra until he finds the correct one again. Shiro didn’t bring flowers, but it’s okay because Adam was never fond of them and this kind of knowledge sticks with you forever, it seems. Memories and little facts used to resurface and leave some sort of sour taste in his mouth until the pain faded and he stopped minding these small glimpses of his past.

“We both did things the other didn’t approve of, didn’t we?” He says to the room, to the plaque, to Adam, like he can hear him from wherever he is now. “We never got closure either. It felt like too long had passed until I realized I had moved on, and in the end I can only hope you did the same. I hope you didn’t die carrying hurt and resentment in you.”

The plaque says nothing in return. Adam’s picture stares back at him, the face void of emotion taken for his Garrison ID. “Our relationship had been… Rocky for a while, but we were both trying to hold on. Being honest with you, I don’t know if I would change anything if I could. Going to Kerberos and fulfilling my dream cost me an arm and more scars than I can count, and they changed me. I’m not the same I was before. So many things happened you wouldn’t believe them unless you were there to see yourself. I even died and came back. And Keith...”

Shiro huffs and smiles, thinks back to all the lengths Keith had gone and would gladly go through again to ensure his safety. “Keith saved me more than once. I wish you could see him now. He’s become everything I thought he could be and more, and I’m so proud of him.” So unbelievably proud the feeling is too big for his own chest, but all this pride is laced with love and so much more. “He woke up recently from a coma. I was so afraid I’d lose him forever.”

His soft smile diminishes as he recalls every moment, awake or not, worrying over Keith, barely eating and sleeping as if he were ready to follow him to the other side promptly. Shiro sniffs and straightens his posture. It doesn’t feel quite right to be talking about Keith to his ex’s Memorial plaque, so he decides to cut this visit short, especially once he realizes he hasn’t had enough of Keith yet to stop worrying and thinking about him. He might as well ditch everything and return to the hospital room.

They’ll understand.

“I’m sorry things happened the way they did.” He says at last, emerging from his thoughts. “I hope you found happiness in the end, Adam. I truly do.”

Shiro touches the plaque one last time - one last goodbye - and turns to backtrack his steps to the hospital room.

* * *

“I can’t wait until I can shower by myself,” Keith mutters, running a sponge gently up and down the length of his arm.

Behind him, Shiro chuckles, fingers tangled in his hair. “I can leave if you want.”

“It’s not that,” he sighs. “It’s just...”

Too many years spent by himself made Keith independent to the core. He had to relearn how to ask for help, but there’s a difference in having someone aid you and having someone do it for you in your stead. The first few days when he’d been allowed to have a proper bath and not be just cleaned with a sponge, he’d sat in the bathtub and sulked as the nurses batted his hands away and washed him themselves. It got better when Krolia noticed his discomfort and stepped in, taking their place and helping him with only what he needed, which was just sitting down and getting up for most part.

He doesn’t really need to be washing Keith’s hair, but Keith likes the feeling of his hands in there - yes, even that oversized prosthetic of his - so he doesn’t complain and goes as far as leaning into the touch.

Shiro hums in understanding and helps him lean down to rinse his hair, then squeezes the excess water and offers no reply. Keith knows he understands what he didn’t say, so he doesn't elaborate further, only grasps the edges of the bathtub tightly and tries to stand on his own, but Shiro helps him before he can fail. He’s set down on a stool nearby and Shiro gives him a towel before drying his hair with a smaller one.

“I’m really looking forward to all the physiotherapy.”

Behind him, Shiro laughs, curling around his body to wrap his arms around Keith’s torso. The material of his uniform on his naked back is nice, and his warmth does wonders to fight off the chill of the air after he spent the last ten minutes soaking in a tub. His lips touch Keith’s temple in an attempted kiss, still shaking from his chuckles.

“Physiotherapy means you’ll be good enough to leave the bed.” His fingers drag along skin and make Keith shiver. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yeah.” Shiro pulls away and unfolds the clothes on the sink as Keith dries the rest of his body. “How are you liking your arm?”

He looks down at the prosthetic in question. It lifts up, shirt dangling from the fingers, and Shiro shrugs. “It’s good. Big, but good, and that’s what matters.” He pauses, presses his lips together to fight back a grin. “It’s weird not having an elbow, though.”

Keith huffs with a fond roll of his eyes, and together they begin the process of dressing him up. Seeing him naked isn’t anything new to Shiro thanks to some of the communal bathrooms on the Castle of Lions, but still he keeps his eyes carefully focused on anywhere but his hips. As Keith combs his hair with his fingers, Shiro unplugs the tub to let the water drain away and carefully sweeps him up in his arms. Keith doesn’t have clearance to walk by himself just yet. And he doesn’t mind being carried by Shiro.

Krolia and Kolivan are outside already. They all take turns to visit him through the day, balancing it with the reconstruction of the planet, and Shiro still keeps the nights for himself. Kolivan will leave as soon as they catch up and return after lunch to stay with him as Krolia leaves. The wolf is lying by the end of the bed and keeps Keith company all day long.

Shiro places him on the mattress, face turned away to greet the newcomers. Krolia passes Keith a tablet. While he can’t go out and do most of the hard work, he resorted to helping however he could, going over graphs and estimates, evaluating which issue is more pressing and needs instant fixing, sending them over to either Shiro or Iverson. He immediately opens the file he’d been looking through on the previous day and finds where he left off as Shiro makes some small talk with them.

A sharp knock on the door disrupts the conversation, causing Keith to look up. On the doorway stands Griffin, and Keith can recognize the underlying tension beneath the composed expression he keeps in place. The four of them blink at him and Griffin blinks back in a brief display of stunned silence. “Can I talk to you?”

Three pairs of eyes fall on him. Keith only shrugs with a small nod, and turns his head to smile at Shiro, who squeezes his foot gently on his way out. He leaves with a wave and pats Griffin’s shoulder as he passes. Griffin salutes sharply but gives no indication that he felt the touch at all.

“Well,” Keith presses after he’s been standing there for a full minute but makes no moves to speak. “What is it?”

Griffin seems to remind himself of what he’s supposed to be doing, snapping out of his reverie with a blink. He squares his shoulders again and walks into the room to stand by his bedside. Keith tries to keep his expression open and quirks up an eyebrow to prompt him to speak. Griffin hesitates again.

“I wanted to apologize.”

Both Keith’s eyebrows inch up his forehead. “What for?”

Griffin doesn’t say anything right away, works his jaw as he searches for the right words. “For what I said when we were cadets, back on our first team simulation. I realized that was uncalled for, but couldn’t bring myself to apologize then.”

Keith frowns up at him and rakes his brain for whatever moment in time he’s mentioning, but comes up blank. Griffin, apology, cadets, flight sim. He turns his confused stare to Krolia, who merely shrugs - ah.

So he’s talking about _that_.

Keith returns his gaze to Griffin, who doesn’t go rigid, to his credits, but shoulders form a tight line of tension that Keith sees tugging at the corner of his eyes too. He understands now his hesitation in bringing it up again. It had been an awful thing to say to a teen that lost his father at a young age and grew up thinking his mother abandoned him - which hadn’t been the case at all, thankfully. He had a lot of time to work out his issues with Krolia.

Right, his _mom_. He sweeps a hand in her direction. “Griffin, I’d like you to meet Krolia, my mom.”

If Griffin hadn’t been nervous before, he certainly is now, though Keith has to applaud him for keeping it together so well. A spark of recognition flashes in his eyes, and he thrusts a hand between them for a handshake. Krolia takes it easily without sparing it a look, smiles at him like he’s an old friend of Keith’s. He wonders if she remembers that particular memory, if they recalled in trapped in the Quantum Abyss.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You too, Griffin.” She drops his hand and folds her arms. “I heard of your deeds from Shiro. Thank you for helping my son.”

He folds his arms behind his back, standing a little straighter. Yep, definitely acting like Krolia is his superior. Keith has to bite back a smirk. “It was nothing, ma’am. Just doing my job.” He shifts his weight, glances at Kolivan standing by the window, and turns to Keith once more. “Is he your father?”

Keith looks at the man in question from over James’s shoulder, catches the small smile he is given. “No,” he begins, letting his lips curl up in kind. “But he’s close to it.”

* * *

He hadn’t been lying when he said he admired Hunk the most. The Yellow Paladin had more qualities than Keith had bothered to point out at the time; he’s perceptive, smart, and has a memory like no other. Hunk may get lost in his ramblings sometimes, jumping from one topic to the next without pause for breath, mending them together until they can’t even tell anymore when the subject changed, but he doesn’t forget what he says when it happens.

That being said, Keith isn’t surprised this is happening. He’s just shocked that he hadn’t considered Hunk would bring into fruition an idea he’d mentioned only once.  

His hospital room is full of people, and that is the case because Shiro pulled some strings. Allura and Pidge have slipped in bed with him, Hunk and Lance sitting cross-legged across from them, all their family members squeezing themselves in the room. It’s a small party of sorts, with food provided by Hunk’s mom and music playing from a small speaker box that was courtesy of Iverson.

Keith still isn’t a fan of crowded places, but he can recognize that this is his friends’ way of trying to make him feel better. He’s still coming to terms that he’ll be the last to be discharged from the infirmary wing, but at least he was given clearance to walk around as long as he’s not alone. Being part Galran should have made the healing process faster, but for some reason it hasn’t.

Colleen and Krolia are off to the side in some mom bonding. Pidge is whispering to him theories of things they can do if they both team up. “Imagine,” she says with a furtive glance in their direction. “Mothers are fiercely protective. They could bring Zarkon to his knees if they wished.”

He doesn’t find that hard to believe.

“They could probably defeat Haggar.” Pidge muses then gasps, slaps him lightly on the shoulder. “ _Keith_. Don’t you see? This is the perfect plan. Two moms versus one. Mom fight.” Another gasp. He can feel Allura watching from beside him, can feel her amusement too. “The three of them could rule the universe!”

He places a hand to her forehead just for show, knowing that the true culprit are the sugar loaded cakes resting on his lap and not some fever. No more sugar for Pidge, he declares, and the other Paladins agree in unison. Shiro comes to whisk the plate away, but not before she gets her hands on two more pieces.

They teach him how to play Monsters and Mana. It's fun and amusing and Shiro dies often, but Keith tries to use his turns to aid him. Coran comes up with an intricate, entertaining story that keeps them engrossed for hours until it's finally time to leave. Krolia and Kolivan are the last to leave, his mom combing her fingers through his hair one last time before retiring for the night.

Soon it's him and Shiro alone again. Keith is tired, but not enough that he would fall asleep in a matter of minutes. Experimentally he stretches his legs and toes, gauging the soreness of his muscles. Bearable enough for another short trip.

“Shiro,” he leans towards the edge of the bed, and Shiro is close to him in the next heartbeat. “Can we take a walk?”

Ever since the nurses said he could walk around to try to appease him as he grew more restless, Keith has been trying to walk as much as he can. “Of course.” His prosthetic hovers uncertainly behind Keith's back as he gingerly lowers his feet to the ground. “Where to?”

“The garden.” It's a section in the hospital wing of the Garrison, a greenhouse built into the side of the building with neatly trimmed bushes, flower patches, and padded benches for sitting. Patients that get tired of their rooms can come here for a change of scenery.

Of course, it's not as pretty as it used to be once. Keith had accompanied Shiro here once when his disease had left him under supervision for a few days, bright yellow sunflowers in full bloom. Now the flower patches are gone, the bushes are decent at best, but the benches are still standing. A stretch of stars greets their eyes on the dark sky, visible through the glass roof that’s speckled with dust.

Shiro keeps a steady hand on the small of his back and lets Keith guide the way to a desired bench. A slight breeze comes in from the square windows open at the top of the structure, keeping the area ventilated just right. Keith sits down and stretches his legs, keeping his gaze focused heavenwards, observing the twinkling dots of light.

It’s quiet. That’s one of the things Keith has always liked about their friendship, the unimportance of keeping a conversation flowing at all times, the comfortable silence that envelops them. Cicadas used to sing around here at night years ago. Keith wonders how long until they return.

Minutes pass and Keith finds comfort in being out of that hospital room again. The air is fresher here, and the view is prettier. He slips off his shoes and presses his toes to the small patch of grass nearby. The simple gesture makes him feel better.

“We were all ready to die.”

He says at last, piercing the air with the weight of that revelation. Shiro startles, a slight jump of his shoulders, and drags his eyes away from the sky to look at him. Keith keeps staring at the stars.

“We knew we wouldn’t be able to escape the explosion. There was no time for goodbyes, it was too fast.” He digs his toes further into the grass. Beside him, Shiro holds onto the bench with a white-knuckled grip. “Still I think the silence said it all. We were resigned to our fate. Dying protecting Earth didn’t sound so bad.”

Keith looks down now at his lap where his hands rest palms up. “I don’t know what was in their minds in that moment… We should probably talk about it.” A dry, humorless chuckle, then an attempt to swallow past the knot in his throat. “I thought - what about my mom? Where was she then? And Kosmo, who would look after him? What would be of Voltron?”

A pause to lick his lips. His nails leave angry marks on the palms of his hands.

“I thought of you.”

Shiro’s breath hitches.

“The memory of you was so loud I couldn’t think. You - how could I leave you after so long? I didn’t want to imagine how losing all of us at once would impact you. When that mecha exploded and everything was bright light, I thought of you.”

It wasn’t something he had been planning to say, not this much. Admitting that they all accepted death as they carried the robeast to space was one thing, admitting that Shiro was his last thought is another. Keith presses his lips together and forces his hands to uncurl. His toes have dug small holes into the soil.

A broken intake of breath and Shiro is peeling his hands away from the bench, dents left in their wake. “I was so scared.” He begins, voice low and rough and just barely masking his distress. “So scared that all of you would die, but Keith... The idea of losing you kept me awake for so many nights. It hurt so badly.”

Shiro hides his face in his human hand, shoulders rising and falling steadily as he takes deep breaths. Keith feels similarly, like something is crumbling inside him, and he knows the feeling of a chest squeezed tight with pain. He had felt it a couple of times: when Shiro left for Kerberos, when he was presumed dead, when he was found wounded in that planet, and then later when he actually died. Finding him in that Galra spaceship hurt differently, the good kind of pain, but hurt nonetheless.

“I told I’m not leaving you.” He repeats, and it serves to reassure himself.

“Death can’t do us part,” Shiro recalls, lowering his hand to give him a watery smile, eyes bright in the low lightning.

Keith leans in closer first, but Shiro is the one to wrap him in a tight hug. He returns it in kind, fisting his hands on the plain shirt Shiro wears at night, burrowing his face in the crook of his neck, aware of the dampness of his lashes.

“We’ll stay together,” Keith affirms, throat closing. “Come hell or high water.”

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me on my [personal](https://chinarai.tumblr.com/) or [art](https://chinaraiart.tumblr.com/) blog! or follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/chinaraii) where I scream about things from time to time


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